


Songs From the Burning House

by ToothPasteCanyon (DannyFenton123)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25181209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123/pseuds/ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: Marcia Sinderson was born to be a rockstar. They could take her life, but they couldn't take the fire from her spirit.Converted from TAU to original work.
Kudos: 4





	1. Track 1 - ‘If You Like What You See’ (2017)

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is coming to this from the TAU version of Songs From the Burning House, the main plotline is largely unchanged. I'm attempting to make this version readable to people who aren't familiar with TAU, so some characters and worldbuilding details have been edited. The difference will be more noticeable in later chapters. I hope you do enjoy - this is my first piece of original work in years, and I thought it'd be fun to post my progress so far! :D
> 
> Potentially triggering content - scroll to endnotes for further details.

Marcia Sinderson was born to be a rockstar. You could see it in her eyes, you could see how people turned their heads when she came through the door. She sang like an angel, but she strutted around stage like she was God and she created it. At 16, she snuck away from home to play her first concert at a bar. It was thundering that night, but the applause was louder.

She was born to be a rockstar. She was 19 when her first single made it big. It played on the radio, and she turned it up. Was that vain? Oh, of course. Marcia reveled in the attention. Paparazzi flashed her, and she let them put the shine in her eyes. She came into money, and she spent it like it was burning.

House. Heels. Phone. Clothes. All for the show. All for the rush.

Marcia was born to be a rockstar. She had that fire. Her fans were kindling, and they stoked her. The more there were, the brighter she blazed. She was a marvel on stage; everyone said her concerts were the best they’d ever been to. And after the performance, she’d sit behind a desk and let you behold her glory. Bring sunglasses.

“Hey, you liked my show? Oh, thank you so much! It means the world to me, really.”

“I’ll sign that card for you! Let me get my special pen – whaddya want me to write? ‘Best fan ever’? Ooh, don’t tell the guy behind you! Haha!”

“Hey! Oh, is that your kid! How’d you like my show, little man? Here, have some stickers! I’ve got soooo many sheets.”

And on, and on, until her pen ran out of ink and her smile wouldn’t stick on her face. And then she’d go to a party – not to her empty house – and live it up until daybreak.

Day break. Day broke one morning, and so did Marcia. They didn’t find her for a full week. Deep in the forest, lounging on a bed of ashes, she waited for them. Police officers turned away and vomited at the sight of her – maybe her presence was still a little too bright for their eyes. They searched and searched for the perpetrators, for clues, for witnesses, but they found little more than bone shards and soot and the dimming stink of gasoline.

They had been thorough. They had planned it all out. They had waited a long time to punish their daughter, who had gone so astray.

Marcia was born to be a rockstar; she burned bright, and she burned short. They snuffed her out just days before she turned 21. Now she could never joke to her many friends about how she could finally drink and not break the law.

That, Marcia thought, was a crying shame. She felt her lips twitch upwards when she thought about it, but for once she wasn’t smiling. And as she sat and watched the police comb over the forest, another ghostly figure appeared next to her.

He was strange. He was cold. He was Death, and he was angry. So angry.

She wasn’t scared. She was angry, too.

Because Marcia Sinderson was born to be a rockstar, and her family had taken her life, but they couldn’t take the fire from her spirit. It was still there, she was still there, and she was going to burn them down.


	2. Track 2 - ‘Don’t Stop (Never Stop)’

A gas station in the center of New Hollywood. Two o'clock in the morning. 

“Yes, ma’am. So that’s one pack of skittles, one slushie and one hot chocolate.”

The woman in front of the register grinned. “Yyyyup.”

“That’ll be-“ The cashier paused as she heard the woman stifle a giggle. “That’ll be four dollars.”

“Here you go!”

“Ma’am, these are tens.”

“Oh, they are? Cool!”

The woman waltzed over to the drink station and started filling up her various beverages. A TV was on by the counter, set to the news.

“Police have uncovered a new lead in the Marcia Sinderson investigation,” A reporter was saying. A fuzzy image of a truck running through an intersection appeared on screen. “Have you seen this vehicle? Traffic cameras caught it speeding away from her last known location in the early hours of the 17 th . If you have any information about this-“

“Man,” The woman started. “That Marcia Sinderson thing, huh? Awful.”

The cashier nodded.

“You know… I actually met her once.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

The woman covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “She’s pretty great.”

“Yeah, she was. Uh, ma’am, your drink is spilling.”

Scalding hot chocolate came gushing onto her fingers. “Has such a cool singing voice! You know, the magazines all said-“

“Ma’am! Ma’am!”

“Oh, whoops.” She took it away with a steaming hand. “Well, nice chat. Glad I could, you know, contribute to the economy. Hey, wanna see a cool trick?”

“Um-“

“Look at me!” The woman flipped the slushie around and dumped it on her head. “I have brain freeze!”

“Okay. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave-“

She then threw the hot chocolate at her own face. Steaming liquid dripped down her chin and onto the floor. “And now I’m blind! Eh? Eh? I bet the look on your face is priceless right now.”

It was.

“Not a fan? That’s alright. My brand of humor is, heh, a bit ghoulish.” She chuckled as she felt around. “Okay, where’s the door, where’s the door… have an awesome day, random cashier lady!”

She stumbled out of the gas station, leaving the cashier speechless. That was perhaps the third weirdest customer she’d ever had.

Outside, meanwhile, the woman staggered around to the back of the building. Her hands were burned and red, but to her they were getting colder, number. She stopped, and she stepped  _ outside _ .

Marcia Sinderson’s ghost stepped out of the body. It crumpled behind her like shed skin, falling and cracking its head on the grimy concrete. Marcia gave a great stretch, her ghostly arms clipping through the wall of the gas station.

“Haha! That was great! Hey, Al! Did’ja see me?”

The shadows opened blue eyes. Death appeared from them, a frown creasing his face. “I thought we were doing your bucket list.”

“And we are! Do you know how much I missed just going to the gas station after my career took off?” She giggled. “She didn’t even recognize me. I was talking about me and she had no idea! Didn’t even think it was weird or anything.”

Death picked up the body on the concrete. In his hands, it seemed to deflate, and he folded it over his forearm like a coat. “She did think it was weird, actually. It was just less weird than when you started pour boiling hot chocolate all over this body.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr Pedantic over here’s gotta be all technical. Lighten up, will ya? I’m just trying to have some fun with the whole ghost thing.” A loud car went by, and Marcia looked over at the road. “Hey! What if I got in another body and just ran into the intersection?”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’m gonna get any dead-er.” Marcia shrugged. “Yeah, okay, that’s probably not a good idea. Can I have another one, though?”

“For what purpose?”

“I dunno. I’ll do something with it.” She passed her hand through the wall. “Feels weird like this.”

“I understand.” Death’s eyes turned sad. “It’s difficult to-”

“Hey, hey, don’t need the heart-to-heart, buddy. Just gimme me a suit.” She blinked. “Uh, please. Man, I sound like an asshole sometimes.”

“One moment.”

Death stepped back, and waved his hand. Shadows began knitting themselves around Marcia’s grey form, shifting into muscle and flesh and clothes. The woman who stood before him looked very little like her living self, with short, reddish hair and freckles all across the bridge of her nose. He watched her clench her fists once or twice, her happy aura sobering somewhat as she felt that warmth, that touch again.

As quickly as the feeling appeared, it was pushed out of mind again. Marcia bent down and picked up something from the ground. Skittles?

Remembering what she had done with the slushie and the hot chocolate, Death took a step back. “What are you gonna do with those?”

“I’m gonna eat’em.” She opened the packet and offered it to him. “Want some?”

“No, thank you. I don’t eat.”

“Alright.” Marcia popped one in her mouth. Taste. She hadn’t tasted anything in weeks. She paused, and then she tilted her head back and emptied it into her face. Skittles went everywhere, on the street, down her throat – one was even in her nose when she came back up and let out a short cough. She grinned at Death with chipmunk cheeks.

“I fu-ing loff shkittols.”

Death just stared at her for a second. He pursed his lips… then he let out a snort, and the rest of the laughter he’d tried to hold back came rolling out. Marcia quickly joined him; now it was the both of them, having a giggle fit behind a gas station at two in the morning.

They were having a good time, and in the back of his mind, he knew he’d regret it.

* * *

Walking down the street, Death watched Marcia wave with two hands at some guy standing by the bus stop. The guy buried his face in his phone and pretended not to notice; Marcia grinned up at Death.

“I could do this all day.”

Death smiled, but that voice in the back of his mind tempered his amusement. “All day, huh. Hey, Marcia…”

“Y’ellow.”

“You know, we are on a time limit to do all the stuff you want to do.”

Marcia rolled her eyes. “This again.”

“I know you don’t want me to keep bringing it up, but I have to. You’re a ghost.” She pointedly looked away, but he kept talking. “You don’t have a body, so your soul will… degrade. You’ll start acting in ways that you probably wouldn’t, and-“

“Hey, ice cream!” Marcia pointed at a darkened shop. “I want ice cream. You want ice cream right? Everybody loves ice cream! Let’s break in.”

“Marcia.”

“Ohhhh my goddd. Will you stop talking about souls and bodies and all that weird shit? You sound like my stepdad, and believe me, that is not a good look.”

“All I’m saying is that if you have something that you really want to do, you should probably do it sooner rather than later.” Death grimaced. “You don’t have time to put it off.”

Marcia glared at him. “You know, this just happened, so I think I have a little time.”

“Three weeks ago is-“

“Gross. Three weeks.” She curled her lip. “Look, I’ll get on it, okay? Jesus Christ, you’re a moodkiller. Every five seconds, ‘Hey, by the way, you’re dead.’ You don’t have to keep mentioning that -  _ I’m aware _ .”

Death put his hands up. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Now, what do do, what to do- hey, look!” She skipped towards a bright neon sign. “Big ol’ nightclub. That’s still open!” Then she turned to Death, a cheeky grin slashed across her face. “So is any dance floor you’re on a devil’s dance floor?”

“Oh, heh. I don’t… I don’t think I’m a devil. And, uh, I’m not really a great dancer, so-“

She stumbled over and grabbed his hand. “Come on, devil. You’re dancing.”

“O-oh! …Hey, wait.”

“What? You shy? Come oooonnn!”

His smile dipped. “Seriously wait, Marcia. You need a break from that body.”

Marcia paused. Yup, she could feel that numbness creeping up her hands again. She staggered to the side of the building and scowled at her buckling knees. “Ugh, you’re right. What’s wrong with your stupid bodies? Never had this problem in mine.”

“Yes. It is a little different now.” Death offered a hand; she slapped it away. “Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but said nothing more. He stayed close behind her as she grappled her way into an alley.

* * *

Death was no great expert on nightclubs, but this one seemed a little seedy. It looked like the night was winding down; music was still blaring on the speakers, but the dance floor was sparse and most of the clubbers were slumped over tables, rising up occasionally only to gulp down the last of their drinks.

Marcia didn’t seem to mind. She grinned at Death and said something as she marched him over to the dance floor. It looked a bit like, ‘I love this song!’

That or ‘Anna sis bomb’; he couldn’t really tell.

The music was killing his ears, there was a musty smell in the air, but Marcia raised his arm and did a little twirl off the tips of his fingers. She released him and started doing her own dance moves as the chorus ramped up, jumping around the floor with the ease of a professional. Fluid, spontaneous, graceful – it was hard to believe it wasn’t choreographed. She closed her eyes, and she sang along, and there was no one in the world but her and no time in the world but this one moment.

Death just stared.

Dead? Everyone around her was dead, but she was so very alive in every sense of the word. She just danced and lived as effortlessly as a fire burned, with no concern for when it might be snuffed-

“Dance, doofus!” A lull in the music let him hear her words. “Or are you just gonna stand there and stare at me? I’m gonna get stage fright!”

Death smiled. “I’m not that great at dancing.”

“What?”

“I said I’m not that great at dancing!”

“Can’t hear you!”

Death gave up – he couldn’t really hear her, either. He shuffled through some awkward steps and bopped his head a bit; the kind of thing he’d seen the other clubbers doing. Marcia’s face lit up, and that made him feel a bit braver. He did a little hop and skip and stomped his foot down on the beat. It felt good.

“Oh, he’s got the moves! Go for it, dude!”

He went for it, and  _ danced _ . There they were, two spirits living it up like they’d die tomorrow, and when the song faded out, Death found a great big grin across his face that just wouldn’t go away.

Wow.

Death danced a little bit more, but he never quite let go like he did on the first song. Marcia wandered off, and he stood to the side to gather his thoughts again.

This was just… really nice. Death had met so many people over the long years, had been with them at the end of their lives just like he was doing with Marcia… but Marcia was so different from so many of the others. Most were - understandably - upset, and he was happy to help, but he would never feel happy like this while he was helping. Most didn’t go out to nightclubs or play pranks on cashiers; they were more concerned with the bigger things, with tying up the loose ends of the life they left behind.

Most of them didn’t treat him like this. Buddying around with him, almost like… a friend.

Death sighed at that, and the smile finally died. As nice as it was, though, he knew it wouldn’t be nice forever. Marcia was different in so many ways, but she’d come and go like every other person he’d ever met. He’d be alone again, and the happy memories today would tear his heart out tomorrow.

Especially if it ended badly… no, he needed to  _ focus _ . He was there to help her, to ease her pain, to let her go in peace, but he wasn’t there to be her friend.

“Hey, dude!”

Death turned around. Suddenly, her happy face was jarring him again. She grabbed his arm. “You’ve got to see this!”

He let her lead him over to a quieter corner, where a little stage was set up. Mirrors framed the back, and a karaoke machine was set up at the front, two microphones resting on top.

“Look!” She tossed a microphone to him. “Isn’t this great? And, I checked and they have two of my songs. These guy’s’ve got good taste. Watch me blow them out of the water – you can sing backup.”

“Marcia, I don’t know…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Just the one, I promise; the other one doesn’t have backup vocals anyway.”

Death sighed. “Alright.”

“Awesome!” She hopped on stage and helped him up. Once they were there, she started the song and began talking into the microphone as the intro played.

“Helloooo random nightclub!” A few people came over as she started talking; they’d seen her dance, and now they wanted to see her sing. “We’re singing, heh, my favourite song – it’s called ‘If I’ve Learned One Thing From You’ and-“

“Rest in peace, Marcy!”

Marcia shot finger guns at the guy in front of the stage. “I’ll get right on that! Ahem, you ready, dude?”

Death kept his eyes on the screen. The intro cut out, the vocals scrolled past and he started to sing, but quickly he realised he was singing alone. He glanced over.

“Marcia? Marcia?”

Marcia. She stood there, staring at him, unmoving, unblinking, her eyes wide and her mouth open like she was caught midsentence. Only she wasn’t quite staring at him; something over his shoulder had caught her eye, and frozen her. Even her aura had frozen, her happy yellow paling into something even he could not read.

Death turned around. Behind him was a mirror, and inside that mirror was Marcia. The real Marcia, behind the skin and flesh that hid her from view. The grey, pale Marcia, the Marcia whose hair had been burned away and whose hands had been reduced to stubs. The Marcia without face or features, the Marcia whose clothes had melted and fused into her chest, who had lain in the middle of a forest for a week, dead.

Because this was the dead Marcia, and Death could see the horror in her eyes when she looked at herself in the mirror, saw what had been done to her.  _ What had been done to her… _

Death reached out. “Marcia-“

He touched her, and she  _ screamed _ . It was an earsplitting, terrified sound that seemed to come straight from her soul. She grabbed his hand with a white-knuckled grip and threw it away as she scrambled back. And she fell, and in that moment her spirit tore away from the body, gone in a flash to who knows where.

Death stood there stunned. The chorus to Marcia’s song was ramping up, but nobody was singing. The little crowd gathered beneath the stage just stared at him.

“Oh.” Death looked down at the body on the floor, and back up at the crowd. He should deal with this. “Do not worry, she’s not real.”

Somebody frowned at him. “Not… real?”

He picked up the body and shook it out. “Yes, and neither am I. You’re all so drunk, you hallucinated this.”

With that, he popped out of existence and turned his attention to Marcia. Almost immediately, he spotted her just outside the nightclub - her emotions drew his eye like strobe lights.

Dark, dark thoughts flashed across her mind. That veneer of happy yellow around her aura was nowhere to be found; it had popped and everything was bubbling over. That anger he felt the first day he met her… he felt that again.  _ They had done that to her _ , and now she was wandering the streets but nobody would see her.  _ What they had done to her… _

Death materialized on the sidewalk. She noticed him, and came racing over.

“Can I just-“ She wrapped her arms around him, but they phased through. Her face crumpled. “Goddammit. Goddammit! I just wanted to hug you.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Marcia mumbled. “I don’t even know what that was. I don’t know why I did that. Well, I know, but it was stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“Marcia, it’s okay-”

“It’s not okay!” She held up her translucent hands. “None of this is okay! And I don’t know what I’m gonna do! You keep saying I don’t have long to do what I want to do, but I don’t even know what I want! I’m  _ dead _ , I’m actually dead! What am I supposed to do? Why am I still here?”

Death took a long, deep breath. She was still staring at him when he let it out, and he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“You… don’t have to be here.” He said, quietly. “You can go at any time you wish to.”

“Go? Go where?”

“To the other shore. I can take you at any time, if you will let me.”

“Other shore, huh? Mysterious.” She tried for a laugh, but it fell flat. “You, uh… you gonna tell me anything else about it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know anything else about it. I can only take you there; I can’t see what it’s like.”

Death waited for Marcia to answer, but she was silent for once. The absence of her voice felt utterly strange, and he cleared his throat.

“I don’t even know if there  _ is _ anything to see. It could be anything.” Finally, he looked up. Looked her in the eyes, saw the fear shining in them. He cleared his throat again, tried to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to find out for yourself. A-and you do need to find out - you don’t want to stay here. You’ll lose yourself, completely, and I won’t be able to take you if you can’t make the decision to go.”

“Does that happen?” Marcia’s voice was quiet. She hesitated, then added: “Do people get… stuck here?”

Death nodded. “So many of them get stuck. They wait too long, and they pass a point where _I can’t help them_ _ anymore _ and-” He caught his voice rising, and forced it down. “So that’s why I’ve been telling you to do the things you want to do as soon as you can-”

“But-”

“But if you don’t have anything, you can go now.” He watched Marcia frown. “You don’t have to, but the option is there.”

There was nothing left to say after that. Silence hung like a heavy chain between them. Marcia took a deep, shuddering breath; i-i-in… and out.

“I...” She started, and her voice was small. “I can’t… I can’t make a decision right now. There are things- there are things I want, I just need more time, I…! I don’t know!”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not, but… I just don’t know.” She rubs her arm. “Can I just… can I just have a body? Because I can’t deal with this right now.”

Death could do that for her. And when she was covered up with skin again, the first thing she did was give him a hug. She squeezed him tight, grabbed little folds in his suit and felt the fabric on her fingers.

Carefully, Death hugged her back.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for emotional and physical abuse, and suicide.


End file.
